A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

Early in the morning, at a villa on a hillside in Xinghai City, Lin Yan was fast asleep, sprawled out on his back.

"Buzzing".

The phone, lying on the carpet, vibrated incessantly, like a death knell.

A slender, fair foot stretched out and kicked Lin Yan's arm in an annoyed manner.

Shen Qingqiu, still in her pajamas, walked down the stairs with a cup of black coffee in her hand, giving him a sidelong glance: "The phone has rung eight times, answer it."

"I hung up." Lin Yan covered his head with a pillow in frustration. "There's a sign on the door saying I'm on vacation this month. Even if the King of Heaven himself came, he'd have to wait until I naturally woke up."

Shen Qingqiu walked over, glanced at the unfamiliar number on the screen, and intended to hang up.

But when she saw that the caller ID was from Beijing, she paused, but still swiped to answer.

"Lin Yan! This is Zhang Ji! Li Mingchang gave me this number!"

A loud, powerful roar suddenly erupted from the other end of the phone, causing Shen Qingqiu to hold the phone half a meter away.

Zhang Ji? The self-proclaimed "tyrant on set," the godfather of Chinese martial arts films?

Shen Qingqiu's expression shifted slightly, and she immediately switched to professional mode: "Director Zhang, hello, this is Shen Qingqiu. Director Lin is still resting, you're looking for him..."

"Stop with the nonsense!" Zhang Ji was furious and didn't give Tian a second thought.

"Old Li insisted on praising him to the skies, saying he could write the kind of martial arts world I wanted! He told him to answer the phone right now!"

Lin Yan sighed deeply under the pillow, feeling utterly hopeless, and reached out to grab the phone, pressing the speakerphone button.

"Disturbing someone's sleep so early in the morning is like killing their parents."

Lin Yan was still grumpy from just waking up, her voice languid.

"Director Zhang, right? You can make your 'jianghu' films, I'll sleep soundly. Go find that old Li bragging. Goodbye, bye."

"You dare hang up?!"

Zhang Ji's eyes widened on the other end of the phone; it had been years since anyone had dared to hang up on him like that!

"You're just a pretty boy from a talent show, what do you know about the world of martial arts? Even though Mr. Li recommended you, I still think your makeup taints my movie!"

Lin Yan laughed in anger; this old man's temper was worse than a rock in a latrine.

"Since I'm too effeminate, then Director Zhang, you'd better find someone else. Goodbye." Lin Yan pretended to hang up.

"Wait!" Zhang Ji realized that this kid really didn't care, and he sneered through gritted teeth.

"I knew you traffic stars wouldn't dare take on this kind of tough work. Are you afraid of being embarrassed if you can't write it? Fine, I won't make things difficult for you."

This kind of old-fashioned, domineering CEO-style provocation was worse than kindergarten level to Lin Yan.

"Yes, I'm afraid of embarrassing myself. I just want to eat, drink, and have fun." Lin Yan yawned. "Goodbye, Director Zhang."

"Our crew invited a retired chef from the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse today to make top-quality braised lamb spine and traditional Buddha Jumps Over the Wall for lunch!"

Zhang Ji was desperate and grasped at straws, his mind flashing wildly back to the message Li Mingchang had sent in the middle of the night.

"This kid only cares about food. Don't talk to him about art or food."

Lin Yan's finger, which was about to press the hang-up button, hovered a full millimeter above the screen.

The air was dead still for two seconds.

Lin Yan suddenly sat up, swept his hair aside, and his tone instantly became righteous and awe-inspiring.

"Director Zhang, the signal was bad just now. As sons and daughters of China, it is our inescapable responsibility to promote martial arts culture!"

"Hey... save the lamb spine for me, I'm buying a plane ticket to Huairou right now!"

Shen Qingqiu stood aside, watching Lin Yan's smooth little combo, and helplessly rubbed his forehead.

A top-tier producer, worth millions, sold himself out over a single meal of lamb spine hotpot. His audacity is truly astounding.

2 PM, Yanjing Huairou Film and Television Base.

On the set of "Reign of Assassins," yellow sand filled the sky, and wires were suspended high in the air.

Zhang Ji sat behind the monitor wearing sunglasses, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

A discreet black minivan was parked outside the film crew's location.

The car door opened, and Lin Yan, wearing a flashy island-style pair of baggy shorts, a floral shirt printed with coconut trees, and black flip-flops, swayed as he stepped out.

Dressed like that, anyone who didn't know better would think he was in Sanya collecting rent.

Following behind him, Shen Qingqiu was fully armed, with sunglasses, a mask, and a baseball cap covering her completely, but her aloof and mature aura still drew attention.

"Director Zhang, Lin Yan has arrived." The assistant director whispered to Zhang Ji.

Zhang Ji turned his head and looked Lin Yan up and down.

Seeing that floral shirt and flip-flops, Zhang Ji's brows instantly furrowed into a tight knot.

"You're Lin Yan?" Zhang Ji snorted coldly, without even moving his buttocks.

"Wearing this to the film set? Do you think this is a public bathhouse?"

Lin Yan completely ignored his show of force.

His nose seemed to be equipped with radar; he took two deep breaths into the air, and his eyes instantly locked onto the field service tent dozens of meters away.

"Where's the lamb spine? Where's the master chef who was supposed to be a state banquet chef?" Lin Yan strode over there.

Zhang Ji was so angry that his beard trembled, and he slammed his hand on the table.

"Stop right there! You haven't even written a song, and you already expect to get by?"

"How can you have the energy to write songs if you're not well-fed?"

Lin Yan pulled over a small plastic stool, sat down at the dining table, and tapped the empty bowl with his chopsticks.

"Director Zhang, working on an empty stomach violates labor laws."

The entire crew gasped in shock.

Zhang Ji is a living devil on set, how dare this kid confront him to his face?

Zhang Ji took a deep breath and suppressed his anger.

He's going to see just how good this kid really is today.

"Fine, let him eat!" Zhang Ji sneered. "If he can't write the martial arts world I want after he finishes eating, I'll rip that floral shirt off you and hang it on the city wall as an extra!"

A pot of top-quality lamb spine stewed until tender and falling off the bone, with a bright red broth, was served, followed by the fragrant traditional Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

Lin Yan's eyes lit up, and he immediately started eating, his mouth dripping with oil.

Shen Qingqiu sat to the side, handing over a tissue with a look of disdain, while she herself drank plain water with composure.

Zhang Ji moved a chair and stared intently at Lin Yan like a supervisor.

"My film has no romance, only life and death and rules. The protagonist is an old assassin who was forced to return to the world after retiring. The background is the desert."

Zhang Ji began to unleash a barrage of attacks, attempting to put mental pressure on Lin Yan.

"The songs I want can't be vulgar, can't be weak, and absolutely not those electronically synthesized, watery voices! They need to have a strong backbone, a desolate aura, and a kind of detached acceptance of the world's illusions, understand?"

While sucking on the lamb marrow, Lin Yan nodded perfunctorily, "Yeah, that's right, the meat is really well stewed."

"Did you hear me?!" Zhang Ji slammed his hand hard on the table.

Lin Yan spat out a bone, grabbed a tissue to wipe his hands, and let out a satisfied burp.

He stood up, stretched, and his joints cracked with a series of light popping sounds.

"Fully recovered."

Lin Yan looked at Zhang Ji, his usual laziness vanished, replaced by a sharp glint in his eyes.

He turned his head to look at the assistant director: "Do you have a guitar? Just grab one, even a broken one will do."

The assistant director paused for a moment, then glanced at Zhang Ji discreetly.

Zhang Ji gritted his teeth and waved his hand dismissively: "Go to the props department and get it for him!"

In less than a minute, a broken wooden guitar with rusted strings was shoved into Lin Yan's hands.

Lin Yan hefted the guitar and strummed it a couple of times.

"Clang... Clang..."

The jarring off-key singing prompted Zhang Ji to sneer, "You didn't even tune the notes, what are you trying to do?"

"Isn't the essence of the martial arts world to be unconventional and unrestrained?"

Lin Yan was too lazy to waste words and quickly turned his fingers on the knob.

Without using a tuner, relying solely on absolute pitch, the tuning was completed blindly in ten seconds.

He hooked his foot over the small plastic stool and, against the backdrop of swirling yellow sand, sat down steadily, clutching his broken guitar.

"You want the desert, you want desolation, you want to see through the mortal world?" Lin Yan met Zhang Ji's gaze, a wild smile playing on his lips.

"Director Zhang, I'll give you a free lesson today. I'll show you what the hell 'jianghu' (江湖, the martial arts world) really is!"